A Middle Earth Montage
by shirespirit
Summary: A series of mostly hobbitcentric drabbles and vignettes. Part One: Triumph of Vanity, The Promise, and Safe in His Arms.


Summary: A series of (mostly unrelated) drabbles and vignettes. Probably most will be hobbit-centric. Part 1: Triumph of Vanity, The Promise, and Safe in His Arms. Please R&R!

Disclaimer: I would like to claim ownership of Lord of the Rings, but I was warned against it by a v. strange man who kept repeating that "bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow!" So, sadly, LotR isn't mine.

**A Middle Earth Montage**

**Triumph of Vanity** (150 words)

With a rhythmic beating of brown-feathered wings and a rush of air, the Eagles descended upon the field of destruction, desecrated with crimson, a travesty of the green and fruitful plain it had once been. The heir to the throne of Men, a prince of the woodland realm, and a son of the earth were waiting for their arrival with anxiety, despair slowly devouring what hope remained to them. The eagles set down their burdens with care: a hunched, white-robed being whose light was dimmed with grief, and two filthy, emaciated figures-- bleeding, ravaged, broken beyond recall. The faces of the three who waited reflected the horror and sorrow of the white figure's stricken gaze as they absorbed the terrible sight of those who had once been their companions, their friends. The same anguished thought was realized in the hearts of man, elf, dwarf, and wizard. _This is no victory._

**The Promise** (200 words)

As Gandalf placed the winged crown upon Aragorn, the man's head was bowed forward slightly from the ancient diadem's tremendous weight. The newly made king mused nostalgically over its heaviness, as well as the heaviness of its accompanying authority and responsibility. Although he had anticipated this day for years, he still had many fears-- fear that his rule would not prove adequate, fear that he would never adjust to a position of royalty. With an internal sigh, he raised his head and immediately caught the large, cerulean eyes of the Ringbearer. Guilt flooded through him as he recalled the immeasurably heavier weight of the burden Frodo had borne. Despite intense fear, countless obstacles, and many trials, Frodo had never once complained. The hobbit, still holding Aragorn's gaze, gave the man a tremulous smile. It was filled with a sadness that nearly broke Aragorn's heart; yet, at the same time, it contained a bright, tangible hope. _Hope in me,_ Aragorn realized. _The hope of seeing a thousand years of waiting finally fulfilled._ Squaring his shoulders, he returned Frodo's smile with a broad one of his own. _I will carry my burden as faithfully as you did yours, my brother...I promise._

**Safe in His Arms** (450 words)

The elven ship had docked at the white shores of Tol Eressea, and all its passengers, save one, had disembarked. Frodo stood alone at the very edge of the gangplank, his deep blue eyes closed against the beauty of the island before him. Truthfully, he was afraid; indeed, the moment one of the elves on the ship had confirmed that land was in sight, an unexpected wave of apprehension had surged powerfully through him. He knew that his life would forever be changed once he departed from the vessel. Old doubts and insecurities that had once nearly prevented him from choosing the path of the Sea pervaded and clouded his mind. What if he was rejected, not only by the land's inhabitants but by the very land itself? Surely such a place was far too grand and noble for one as lowly as he. And what of Bilbo's death? When his beloved cousin passed away, he would essentially be alone on the island. He would be the only remaining mortal in the country of the deathless.

He dropped his head to his chest with a sigh. _I've already made my choice, for good or ill. There is no going back. But who knew that this one last step could be so difficult to take?_ Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward--

...And was suddenly, completely enveloped in the most wonderful sensations he had ever experienced. It was as though all who had ever cared for him had embraced him simultaneously. He felt indescribably warm, safe, _loved,_ as though he had finally found something he had been searching for desperately all his life. He gasped in wonder and looked around in rapturous bewilderment. As he did so, he became aware that the island was familiar to him. In fact, its rolling green hills and flower-laden fields were stunningly similar to those of the Shire, only...more _real_ somehow. With a sudden revelation, he knew that his presence completed Eressea in some way, and that his absence would detract from its perfection and splendor. And in his heart, he perceived with great certainty that he would never again know the loneliness he feared so much.

It was then that Frodo heard the Voice. It sounded somewhat familiar to him, athough he was quite certain he had never heard it before. It caressed his mind, weaving through his consciousness and leaving behind it a sense of peace and joy and a keep thankfulness that reached to the core of his soul. Tears of happiness and gratitude sprang to his eyes as he heard the Voice's message, imparted in tender, loving tones.

_"My dear child...welcome home."_

  
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